Phoenix
by raizingkain2001
Summary: Sophia didn't survive the attack at the quarry, and Carol must decide if there is anything left for her in a world gone mad.


Writing this has brought an end to a 5 yr drought for me as far as writing. Some of you might remember me from the Buffy fandom (spikeslovebite) while others are reading me for the first time (Ms Optimistic, that's me). Thanks for encouragement, incentive, and death threats go to the besties, Peta2 and my little Rae of Sunshine. Not sure if I have anymore in me, but there's this.

I own no part of The Walking Dead, I just like pooping in their litter box.

PHOENIX

She lost her husband and her only child on the same night. The husband was no big loss, but the child…

Her daughter. Her precious Sophia.

Maybe it was some type of Punishment.

Punishment. Always with a capital P, as though it were a living, breathing entity.

Carol Pelletier knew she might not be the brightest woman on earth, but when it came to Punishment in all its variations, she was a regular Einstein.

Ask Ed where he was going so late at night…two licks with the belt. Supper was late to table, or better yet, something Ed suddenly decided he disliked…an open-handed slap. Give birth to a daughter instead of the son Ed Pelletier felt was his due…hard, rib-cracking kicks that went on for hours and ended any chance of more children.

So, when that gorgeous day waned into night and she flagrantly ignored Ed's dictates in favor of joining the others for a fish-fry, she should have known there would be consequences.

There were always consequences.

Afterwards, it all seemed so surreal. One moment they were feasting and laughing, joking about wristwatches and keeping time and saving none of the fish for the group that had gone into town. The next, screams of pain and fear and erupting chaos.

Carol blamed herself, of course. Any other time, she would have been the one to take her daughter into the RV to potty, but Amy was going inside for the same reason, so she'd let Sophia go.

She blamed Shane, also, for not posting anyone on watch when always before he'd been hyper-vigilant about having someone walking their perimeter. He'd brooded most of the evening, casting yearning glances at Lori's stubbornly averted face instead of doing the job he'd taken upon himself with such overbearing confidence.

Most of all, she blamed Ed. If he'd been any kind of father to Sophia and not some dark, abusive monster, he would have been there to protect her. Instead, he'd hunkered down in their tent to lick his well-deserved wounds and fume over the injustice he felt had been dealt to him by her and the other members of the group.

From the snatches of conversation she'd overheard while kneeling in the dirt, cradling Sophia's lifeless body, Ed had been the first to die.

Then, poor Amy. First her arm, then her neck. Gouts of blood rushing out to stain her cute little top, turning the blue stars black.

Sophia was the last.

She'd been right behind Amy and her terrified shrieks had sliced right through Carol, who'd screamed at her, urging her to go back inside the safety of the RV. But Sophia was frightened out of her wits and wanted her mommy. She jumped over Amy's writhing body and ran heedlessly towards her mother. Carol watched in horror as the girl darted right into the path of one of the shuffling monsters. It grabbed her, dragging her to the ground and falling upon her with greedy snarls.

A shotgun blast from behind her knocked Carol off her feet and the head of the walker that was tearing at Sophia's flesh exploded, but it was too late. Her throat was torn open and her blue eyes stared blindly at the night sky.

Rick and the others had returned from the city and they moved quickly and methodically to take down the invading dead. More gunfire rang out and the remaining creatures dropped like stones.

Shaking and sobbing, Carol crawled to her child and dragged the limp little body into her lap. She rocked, completely oblivious to everyone else, uncaring of the blood soaked ground beneath her.

PHOENIX

Dawn broke over a drastically changed camp. It was a scene of nightmarish devastation and broken people with lost, shell-shocked expressions. A few yards away, a near-catatonic Andrea knelt beside her sister in the same way Carol hovered over her baby's still form.

In spite of the bites that marred her fair, freckled skin, Sophia looked like a sleeping angel. Carol was reminded of countless mornings over the years when she'd sat just like this, doing nothing but watching her daughter's face and waiting for her to wake up. Grief too sharp, too raw, for tears coursed through her as she forced herself to accept the fact that her darling Sophia, her only joy and the light of her miserable life, would never rouse with a yawn and a sweet smile for her mommy ever again.

Lori appeared and spent a few moments murmuring to Andrea before she squatted down next to Carol.

"Carol, honey—"

"I know," she interrupted, her voice harsh from too little sleep and too many tears. "If…If you would bring me some towels and water, I'd like to clean her up first." Her chin wobbled. "Sophia hated being dirty."

A thin, strong hand squeezed her shoulder in reply and Lori left to gather what she needed.

It wasn't long before another shadow fell over her. She looked up to meet blue eyes filled with regret.

"I'm real sorry about your little girl."

She'd only spoken to Daryl Dixon a few times since they'd come to the quarry, and then only when necessary. Not only would Ed have blown a gasket if she had, but men like Daryl and his brother frightened Carol. Men of their ilk were generally rude and uncouth, and most of them shared her husband's belief that women were put on earth to serve them. Merle had certainly lived up to that stereotype, but now, with his sympathy for her loss writ so plain on his face, she wasn't so sure about the younger Dixon.

Yes, he was boiling over with resentment towards them all for the way his brother had been abandoned, and he moved with cold precision among the dead with his pickaxe while arguing with Glenn over the way they should dispose of the bodies, but…

He was the only one who'd dared approach her besides Lori. The others were busy cleaning up the mess and she understood that, but not even the usually empathetic Dale had ventured near. For Carol, that said more about Daryl Dixon's character than anything else could.

Along with this new conviction came the certainty that she wanted him to be the one to…take care of Sophia. She knew the rule, knew what had to be done to her child's brain so she wouldn't rise as one of the abominations that had taken her life. In light of her resentment towards Shane, she felt Daryl was the obvious choice.

"Would you—" Carol choked back a sob, the weight of it crushing her chest. "Would you mind doing what needs to be done for her when I finish cleaning her up?"

His stare never wavered. "I'll be real gentle with her, ma'am; you can rest easy on that if nothing else."

PHOENIX

They all agreed Jim had chosen a beautiful spot to dig those graves during his earlier frenzy.

Any grief she'd felt for the loss of her husband had been expunged with each swing of the pickaxe she'd buried in his brain while Daryl stood by, silent and watchful. Carol was dry-eyed when they lowered Ed's remains into one of the holes. She'd made sure Ed was buried in the grave furthest from Sophia's. Even in death, she protected Sophia from the evil that had begun to eat away at her father's soul by refusing to bury her next to him.

When their dead were properly interred, Lori sought Carol out to offer her a place with her, Rick, and Carl.

"You're family, Carol, and we want you to stay with us."

Carol had to bite back a surge of bitter laughter. She knew Lori meant well, but, honestly, where else did she have to go?

After much cussin' and discussin', as her daddy used to call it, Shane made the announcement to the remainder of the group that they would follow Rick's advice and head to the CDC.

Preparations were made to move out the following morning.

She was inside the blood-soaked tent she'd shared with her family, listlessly sorting through what remained, when a shadow darkened the opening.

"Kinda pointless to ask if you're alright," Daryl said.

Definitely not one for sugarcoating, that one. He'd obviously been hunting; he was filthy, and there were a multitude of small, furry carcasses dangling from his belt.

"I, uh, figured you'd want to spend some time with your little girl…Say goodbye before we take off. You let me know and I'll go up with ya. Keep a watch out for ya."

Carol desperately wanted to, but everyone was so busy packing up and taking care of Jim. She'd hated to ask one of the men to accompany her, but if he was offering, she would gratefully accept.

"I'd like that. Thank you, Daryl."

He shifted restlessly, obviously uncomfortable with her thanks, before giving her a jerky nod.

"Holler when you're ready," was all he said.

She didn't need to 'holler'. He was leaning against a nearby tree, watching silently as Lori and Jacqui cleaned the squirrels he'd brought back. When Carol appeared, he met her at the beginning of the trail, motioning her to follow him with a jerk of his chin.

It wasn't far to the top of the rise, and Carol collected wildflowers along the way. By the time they reached the graves, she had a pretty little bouquet. Kneeling beside Sophia's plot, she spread the flowers carefully around the makeshift cross Dale had constructed.

Daryl moved a few yards away to give her some privacy, but still close enough to get to her if something should wander from the trees in search of a meal.

Thankful for his consideration, Carol bowed her head and began to pray for her daughter.

PHOENIX

What they found at the CDC was like a punch line to a very bad joke.

They arrived at dusk. The stench of death and decay was overwhelming and bloated flies circled endlessly over the corpses of military men. It seemed deserted, but even before they reached the steel-covered doors, walkers began to perk up and shuffle hungrily in their direction.

Daryl took out the closest walker with his crossbow and whipped around. "You led us into a graveyard!" he spat at Rick.

Hysteria reigned and more of the dead were rising. The group argued that they should just go, that there was no one left here to save them, but Rick was determined. Even more so when he thought he saw the camera above the door moving.

They were heading back to the cars, Shane manhandling a screaming Rick, when there was a sudden grinding of gears and the door slid smoothly up. For a moment they stared, totally dumbfounded, before sense returned and everyone scrambled forward.

"Daryl, you take the back," Rick called over his shoulder as he brought up his weapon and moved into the blinding light that poured from the opening. "Hello?"

It was blatantly obvious that Dr. Edwin Jenner wasn't a people person, although he did attempt a little levity with Carl as they rode the elevator down into the bowels of the facility.

After he'd drawn blood from each of them and discovered they hadn't eaten, he made the kitchen available to them. Still, Carol felt uneasy. Yes, she was claustrophobic, but that wasn't what troubled her.

In a nutshell, Jenner creeped her out.

In her opinion, he gave them a whole lot of information without telling them anything of substance. She tried to relax and enjoy a glass of wine with the others, but it wasn't easy with a dour-faced Jenner eyeing them all like they were something under a microscope. Even when Rick toasted him and the group praised him, he remained grim and dispassionate as he downed glass after glass of wine.

When they were finished with their meal, he showed them where they would be sleeping. They were offices, but even a couch or a cot was a step up from the way they had been roughing it over the past weeks. Best of all, there was hot water on tap.

The hot shower was pure bliss. She really should have tried to be quick, but the allure of pure cleanliness after so many weeks of tepid or downright cold water was impossible to ignore. Carol soaped herself several times with cherry almond gel and lathered her hair twice before she finally emerged feeling sleek and fresh.

Making her way to the rec room Jenner had mentioned she found a freshly bathed Carl staring morosely at a checker board. When he looked up, there were tears in his eyes. Carol knew what was troubling him before he even spoke.

"All the games are for two or more people." His bottom lip quivered. "I sure do miss Sophia."

Heart breaking all over again, Carol reached for him. He threw himself into her arms and together they cried out their loss. For the first time since Sophia's death, she felt as though her daughter was being properly mourned.

When Lori finally came in search of him, Carl was all cried out, draped across Carol's lap and snoring softly.

"Everything okay?" she asked, concerned.

"Fine. We talked about Sophia and cried a little. He's just worn out, I think."

Carl snorted himself awake. "Mom?"

"Hey, baby. Time for bed." Lori grinned as he wobbled to his feet. "Go say your prayers. I'm gonna browse for a bit."

"Okay, Mom. Night, Carol."

"Night, sweetie." Carol picked up the book she'd started to read and got to her feet. "This is the first night we might actually get some real sleep," she marveled as she made her way to the door. "It's a miracle, isn't it?"

"We all need it, that's for sure," Lori agreed. "Sleep well, Carol"

She was nearly mowed down by an inebriated Shane in the hallway. He didn't so much as glance at her, let alone apologize for his rude behavior. It was obvious where he was headed and, judging from the look on his dark face, he wasn't in the mood for a calm discussion. Carol rolled her eyes and vowed to mind her own business.

Hoping for a night free of nightmares about her daughter, she continued down the hall to the room she was sharing with Jacqui.

Her hand was on the knob when she heard it; a muffled crash, followed by the tinkle of falling glass coming from the room across from hers. She wasn't sure, but she thought she'd seen Daryl go in there earlier before the rush for the showers commenced.

The door wasn't latched and without pausing to ponder the consequences of her actions, Carol reached out and pushed it open.

Daryl's head whipped up at her intrusion. He glared at her, blood dripping from his clenched fists to pool on the nondescript beige carpet. The mirror over the dresser was shattered and the floor was covered with shards of glass. Not all of it was reflective, though, leading Carol to believe he'd also smashed a couple of wine bottles during his tirade. It was plain to see he'd drained more than a few before switching to whiskey. Someone was going to have a splitting head when he woke up.

"The fuck d'you want?" he growled at her, weaving unsteadily.

Setting her books on the table near the door, she picked her way carefully through the minefield of glass. When she reached him, she silently took one of his dripping hands in hers to assess the damage. His knuckles were shredded and she could see slivers of glass buried in the deep cuts.

When he realized what she was doing, Daryl jerked his hand from hers, flinging blood across the walls. The room was beginning to look like a slaughterhouse.

"Lemme the fuck alone, woman!" he snarled. The momentum from his swinging arm pitched him around and he fell against the end of the couch with a surprised grunt.

"You people…" he slurred. "Ya'll are reapin' what you sowed. Know I done told ya'll that, but it bears repeatin'. Lef' my brother t'die. Fuckin' had it comin', all of ya!"

Carol recognized this rant from back at the quarry, but now she wasn't suffocating with grief and hearing it again made her see red. She moved swiftly to bend over him and grabbed his face, her fingers digging into his scruffy cheeks as she glared into his glazed blue eyes.

"You listen to me!" she hissed. "Sophia and I didn't have anything to do with what happened to your brother. Do I think he deserved it? Hell, yes! Am I sorry it had to happen? Of course! But don't tell me I 'had it coming', Daryl Dixon. I take the blame for lying down and taking Ed's shit for almost fifteen years, but my daughter was innocent! She had nothing coming to her!"

She practically threw him away from her and stalked from the room. In a few moments she was back, the first aid kit from her pack in hand. Ignoring the way Daryl flinched away as she loomed over him, Carol laid a clean towel across his lap and started in with the tweezers.

"'M sorry," he muttered, head hanging and eyes firmly fixed on her ministering hands. "'Bout your l'il girl. And for flinging all that shit at ya."

Apologies were obviously a foreign concept to Daryl Dixon, but at least he'd made the attempt and Carol felt somewhat mollified.

"It's just…Merle might be an asshole, but he's my brother. The whole time we was growin' up, Merle stepped up and took as many beatin's as he could for me. Our old man was a bastard when he was drunk, an' when our momma died, he just got worse."

Carol knew he wouldn't be telling her all this if he were sober, but she wasn't about to stop him. If Daryl needed to talk, then she was going to listen to him. It was the least she could do after his many small acts of kindness towards her.

"That shit went on 'til Merle went and joined the Army. Then it was just me to deal with the old man's rantin' and ravin'. But he taught me well, Merle did." Daryl heaved a sigh, looking everywhere but at her. "He was—No, he IS the only family I got left in this fucked up world."

"Daryl, you don't know for a fact that Merle is dead. If I've learned anything in this world, it's that men like him are usually the survivors."

She meant no offense, and thankfully he didn't take it as such, nodding along drunkenly.

It took some time to dig out all the splinters of glass from his mangled knuckles, but he never once flinched. Even when she had to probe especially deep for some of them, he only gritted his teeth. When she felt she'd gotten out as many as she could, Carol washed and dried the cuts and then reached for the antibiotic ointment.

"Pfft!" Daryl scoffed. "No sense wastin' that."

Before she could stop him, he upended the bottle of whiskey over his free hand.

It was a miracle that his resulting howls didn't bring everyone running. As it was, only Dale poked his worried, whiskery face through the open door. When he saw Carol sitting patiently on the couch, eyes turned heavenward while Daryl turned the air blue with curses, the older man merely nodded at her and ducked out of sight before Daryl could see him.

"Feel better now?" she asked serenely when he thumped down beside her once more.

"Fuckin' hurts." He pouted, eyeing the ointment and strips of gauze she held. "I don't—"

"Give me your hands, you stubborn ass!" Carol ordered harshly.

His eyebrows shot up at her tone and she thought for sure that he was going to kick up even more of a fuss, but he surprised her once more by meekly extending his hands to her.

Leery of just how long this passive behavior would last, she worked quickly and efficiently to anoint the cuts with the cream and then bind his hands. Conscious of his unflinching gaze on her face, she got up and began to pack away her kit.

Her busywork completed, she returned his stare calmly. His veered away self-consciously and fixed on his neatly bandaged hands. He flexed them experimentally and shot her a hint of a smile.

"Ya do good work," he complimented her.

"First aid classes," she replied airily. The classes had been a godsend. No matter how bad off she was, Ed refused to let her go to the emergency room. "I'll check them in the morning. Just…do both of us a favor and don't beat up any more mirrors, please?"

A huff of air that might have been laughter escaped him. "Why the hell should you care? Way I figure it; you got a right to be smashin' a few mirrors of your own."

"Now, why would I do something so stupid and pointless?"

"Ain't ya mad, Carol?" he slurred softly.

"About Sophia, you mean?" She glared at him, her eyes swimming with bitter tears. "Daryl, if I start breaking mirrors because I'm angry about what happened to Sophia, I—I don't think I'd ever stop."

"Cain't hold it all inside, woman. Gotta let it out somehow or it'll eat ya alive."

She had to laugh at that, and it was shaky and scornful.

"I was married to an abusive man for almost fifteen years. I'd say that qualifies me as an expert at holding stuff inside, wouldn't you?"

Gathering up her things, she turned to make her way to the door when Daryl staggered to his feet and came up behind her.

"I tell ya what. Hit me."

Carol goggled at him. "_Hit_ you? I'm not going to—"

"Go on. Fifteen years, Carol! Tell me it wouldn't feel good to have that bastard here right now so ya could haul off and bust th' fuck outta him."

She was horrified. "You're not Ed, Daryl…" she protested weakly.

"The whole time ya was married, weren't nothin' ever good enough for him, was there? No matter how hard ya tried, there was _always_ somethin' lackin', always a reason for him to lay his hands on ya. And he never EVER apologized for it, did he?"

She shook her head the tiniest bit, her eyes wide and glistening. "No—"

"But then, things got scary as fuck for ya, 'cause he started in on Sophia, didn't he?" Her flinch told him he was on the right track, and he continued in that soft, almost hypnotic voice.

"All the sudden, he wanted her around when he couldn't give two shits about her before. Ya saw the way he looked at her, ya saw and ya _knew_ the evil that was crawlin' through his sick mind, didn't ya, Carol?"

He moved in on her, following her until she was cornered against the wall, thrusting his face close to hers as he shouted, "That's when ya knew what fear was, 'cause ya knew the day was gonna come when ya wouldn't be there to protect her from her own dad—"

_WHAP!_

Carol gasped in horror, appalled at what she'd done, but he _laughed_ at her.

"Shit! That all ya got, lady? Hell, ya cain't even hit right!"

_WHAP!_

"Wimpy-assed woman," he jeered.

And again. _WHAP!_

She hit him three more times, each time harder than the last, and would have kept on if he hadn't caught her wrists and held on tight. They were nose to nose, both of them gasping for breath, eyes blazing as they glared at one another.

Suddenly, his mouth swooped down and he was kissing her.

To say she was stunned would be putting it mildly. Carol felt that kiss from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Who knew Daryl Dixon could be such a passionate man? Granted, Ed was her only other comparison, but even when they were dating—before the alcohol and the beatings started—Ed had never, ever kissed her like this.

She found herself braced against the wall, his hands pinning her wrists above her head as he continued to kiss her breathless. He pressed his body tighter against her and Carol felt the unmistakable ridge of his erection rubbing against her belly. Some long buried instinct drove her to raise her legs and wrap them around his narrow hips. Feeling the heat of her, he hissed out a curse and released her wrists to fill his hands with her ass cheeks, squeezing rhythmically as he ground into her.

Daryl left off kissing her and buried his face in her neck. "Jesus, woman, you're so fuckin' _soft_," he growled into her throat.

"Oh, God. Daryl…" she panted as his teeth grazed her flesh. He released her for a moment and she was dimly aware of him fighting with her sleep pants. He managed to get them down enough so she could kick them free of one leg. Reaching between them, she clawed his jeans open and cradled his erection. One twitch of her hips and she was impaled upon him.

His head snapped up and she found herself trapped in the heat of his gaze. _'Do you want this?'_ his eyes seemed to ask. Carol smiled. Using her shoulders against the wall for leverage, she arched against him in reply. _'Yes. Oh, yes.'_

When he began to move inside her, Carol's hands found his shoulders, gripping them tightly as she held on for dear life. It had been years since she could stand to let Ed touch her, so she didn't feel she could be blamed when several long, drawn out strokes brought her over the edge so quickly. With a short, sharp scream, she clamped down on him and rode it out.

Daryl grunted in shock and staggered back until his legs hit the couch and he dropped down. There was an agonizing SPROING as the cushions took their weight and Carol gasped out a breathy moan as their momentum drove him even deeper inside her, triggering an even more intense orgasm than the first.

She was still trembling with the force of it when he gripped her hips and rolled until she was beneath him, pressing her deep into the couch as he drove into her, desperate for his own release. He stiffened against her with a shuddering snarl, and Carol was stunned when another climax swept over her at the same moment.

Three. Three times in one go, when the only other orgasms she'd experienced had been self-induced. Color her amazed.

He lay limply against her, kneeling on the floor between her thighs with his pants caught around his knees. Compared to him, she was a mess. Her robe hung from one arm. At some point, her shirt had been rucked up to her neck to bare her breasts, and her sleep pants dangled from one foot. Yes, she most certainly was a mess, but she'd never felt so fulfilled.

Embarrassment over her actions was setting in, but Daryl nipped it in the bud. He got unsteadily to his feet and took her hand to pull her up with him. Without a word, he helped her set herself to rights and then tugged up his jeans. With a satiated groan, he flung himself down on the abused couch and stretched out.

Carol stood there, head down as she toyed with the belt of her robe. She was about to tell him goodnight and head to her own room when he held his arms open to her. After a moment's hesitation, she lay down beside him and rested her head on his chest with a soft sigh.

Morning would come with its questions, and hopefully some answers, but for now, she slept, wrapped in the protective circle of his arms.

PHOENIX

She woke alone, curled up on a cot in the room she'd intended to share with Jacqui. The other woman was nowhere in sight as Carol hurried to wash and dress.

Everyone was gathered in the cafeteria for breakfast and they were so busy ribbing Glenn for his hangover and asking Shane about scratching himself in his sleep, no one noticed when she slipped in and helped herself to scrambled eggs and juice. Or so she thought. She was lifting a forkful of eggs to her mouth when she caught him staring at her from across the room.

Carol could have sworn he blushed. She knew she was. She gave him a tentative smile and felt a rush of…something…when his eyes crinkled and the corner of his mouth quirked in return.

The arrival of Jenner broke the spell and Dale wasted no time in raising questions no one else seemed to want to ask. With a look of resignation, the good doctor led them all to the heart of Zone 5. They sat through his spiel and watched the brain on the monitor live, die, and then reanimate until what was obviously a bullet ended it for good. Once again, it was Dale who asked what they were all wondering; what happened when the red numbers on the big clock reached zero.

Jenner mumbled something about the generators running out of fuel and then proceeded to ignore them as he calmly walked out. Rick called out to the disembodied voice known as VI, "What happens when the power runs out?"

"When the power runs out, facility-wide decontamination will occur."

Those bland, expressionless words struck a chill in everyone's heart.

PHOENIX

They were at the mercy of a madman.

"It sets the air on fire. No pain. An end to sorrow. Grief. Regret. Everything."

Once again, chaos ensued. More angry words, Shane going after Jenner with his shotgun, and in the midst of all the confusion, Daryl slamming his axe against the metal doors in a futile attempt to break through.

Finally, Rick's impassioned pleading seemed to penetrate Jenner's detached calm and he manually overrode the computers to open the doors. With freedom within their grasp, they bolted towards the exit. Except for Jacqui. Andrea announced her intention to stay and die, too, turning a stubborn shoulder as Dale began to plead with her.

Carol understood. It sounded so easy. No more nightmares. An end to the constant guilt and torment she'd lived with since Sophia's death. Making up her mind, she stood her ground, also.

"I'm staying, too," she stated calmly.

Daryl whipped around, expression aghast for an instant before settling into its usual mulish lines.

"Aw, hell. No. No, we ain't doin' this, Carol."

"No, I—"

She'd barely opened her mouth to refute him when Carol found herself flung upside down over a hard shoulder. It was eerie how quick he was. One second standing at the top of that ramp leading to freedom, blue eyes blazing, the next in front of her and scooping her off her feet. Without missing a step, he took off towards the exit, bellowing for the others to follow.

It seemed like an eternity of jouncing along darkened hallways and steep, dizzying stairwells before they broke into the deceptively bright lobby. Daryl dumped her unceremoniously onto the floor and thrust his face close to hers.

"You move, you won't sit for a week!" he threatened before dashing away to join Shane at the windows and bashing away with his axe. A bellowing T-Dog applied himself with a chair, of all things, before Shane called him off in favor of attempting to shoot out the tempered glass. Another failure.

It looked like she might get her wish to join Sophia after all…

Carol scrambled weakly to her feet, her head still whirling from her impromptu wild ride. Her hand moved automatically to adjust the strap of her roomy shoulder bag and she was inanely grateful that it had survived the trip. Patting its reassuring weight, her hand suddenly froze in place around a hard, heavy object.

Her mind flew back to Rick's first morning at the quarry. She could almost smell the fresh air and sunshine, could hear the sound of Sophia's rare, sweet laughter as she played with Carl and the other children while Carol herself labored at the washtub to clean Sheriff Grimes' soiled uniform. Her hand had emerged from the suds cradling the grenade. Not wanting to flash it around in front of the kids, she'd stuffed it into her bag to return to him later.

It seemed now was later. Sure, she could keep it to herself and let the fire consume them all, but killing everyone else to suit her own ends wasn't Carol Pelletier.

"Rick! I have something that might help," she babbled, digging into her bag as she hurried towards them.

"Carol, I don't think a nail file is gonna do it," Shane snapped, completely disregarding her efforts.

Ignoring him, Carol reached out to Rick, the grenade resting in her open palm.

"Your first morning at camp, when I washed your uniform, I found this in your pocket."

Rick's eyes blazed as he beheld the tiny instrument of destruction and his hand shook slightly as he plucked it from hers.

"Look out!" he called out. Rushing to the window while the others dove for cover, he pulled the pin and rolled it onto the windowsill. "Get down! Get down!"

The grenade detonated and glass flew out. Ears ringing from the blast, Carol felt someone yanking her to her feet and dragging her to the opening. Daryl's hands were hard on her ass as he goosed her up and over the sill, and he didn't hesitate to grab her hand and drag her behind him as they barreled full-tilt towards salvation.

Shots rang out as the men fired at the advancing walkers and Daryl neatly decapitated one with his trusty axe. Carol felt her gorge rise as the snapping head rolled away into some shrubs, but fought to control it. She'd puke later, she promised herself.

Reaching the line of vehicles, Daryl finally released her to fumble with the door of his truck. Once open, he shoved her in and clambered in after her.

Carol heard Lori cry out and looked up to see Dale and Andrea emerge from the broken window and make their way across the minefield of walkers and dead bodies.

"They'll never make it," she gasped.

"They'll make it; now get your ass down, woman!" Daryl bit out, yanking her down until her nose grazed the dirty floor mat and swooping over her protectively.

The concussion from the blast made the one from their grenade seem puny by comparison, but after a few seconds, they both sat up to watch the flames billow and the CDC swiftly collapse into itself. Carol prayed fervently that Dale and Andrea had made it to safety.

PHOENIX

They didn't hang around to watch their last hope burn itself out.

Finding shelter for the night was relatively simple. Glenn directed them into the quiet of a small suburb and they all worked to clear out any stray walkers. The men scavenged for food while Carol and Lori took care of sleeping arrangements. Andrea refused to help and she spoke to no one. She spent her time glaring at Dale as he labored to nail boards over the windows.

Carol started to say something to the blonde, but decided it would be best to mind her own business. As unpleasant as the prospect was, they would all just have to deal with pouty Andrea for a while.

It occurred to her that she should be as pissed off at Daryl as Andrea so obviously was at Dale, but she couldn't find it within herself to be bitter. Yes, a part of her had yearned for the sweet release of death, but she was now convinced that had Daryl not taken the decision away from her in his rough, churlish way, it wouldn't have taken more than a few words to change her mind from its path of destruction.

They ate a late supper and, feeling overwhelmed by their exhausting day, everyone bedded down.

All but one.

Unable to sleep, Carol stared at the ceiling. She was tired, but knew she wouldn't sleep until Daryl's turn on watch was over.

Shortly after midnight, Shane roused himself and went out to the enclosed front porch. A few minutes later, Daryl came in and Carol could see him glancing from pallet to pallet. Warmth consumed her as she realized he was looking for her. Throwing aside her blanket, she patted the space beside her in silent invitation.

Without a word, he made his way to her side. She waited patiently as he arranged his weapons close at hand and lay down, a respectable two inches between them. Two inches which Carol quickly violated by squirming close to his side and draping her arm over his chest.

He tensed at first, but said nothing as she cuddled against him.

"I want to thank you," she whispered.

"For?"

His attempt at ignorance fell flat and they both knew it. Carol admonished him with a soft jab in the ribs with her finger.

"For giving me my life back. Daryl…What you did today…I—"

He silenced her the best way he knew how, his mouth slanting hungrily over hers until she lay panting beneath him. Pulling away, he dropped his forehead to rest on hers.

"Ya don't get to leave me, woman," he hissed fiercely. "Not like that. Got it?"

It was probably as close to an 'I love you' as she was likely to get from him, but Carol took it. She could only nod in reply, her throat choked by tears that would surely spill if she opened her mouth. Hearing those possessive words from him was so much different than hearing them from Ed. Maybe because she knew to her soul that while Daryl might kill to protect the ones he loved, he would die before he laid a hand on her himself.

It struck her suddenly that while she ached with the loss of her daughter the way only a mother can, there was a tentative spark of happiness flickering inside her. All because of him. Yes, he was a hard man. Not only a product of his less than stellar childhood, but also a throwback from earlier, harsher times when men like him fought to conquer nature and the elements and build their hardscrabble lives in the Georgia mountains. He was a man that looked after his own, no matter the cost to him. And he considered her to be his.

Completely unaware of her musings, Daryl settled them once more, curling protectively around her.

"Sleep," he ordered with a jaw-cracking yawn.

And much to her surprise, she did.

END


End file.
